


Language Isn't Jedi-Like (But Ben Was Raised By Pilots)

by Massiel



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Jedi Ben Solo, Picotee & Ben Are BFFs Now, Resistance Member Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 15:10:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13661598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Massiel/pseuds/Massiel
Summary: Ben and Picotee are pretty much a go-to team for the Resistance now. Usually the missions go smoothly, but sometimes things go awry.Don't worry, though, Ben can smooth things over with the General.





	Language Isn't Jedi-Like (But Ben Was Raised By Pilots)

**Author's Note:**

> Accidental sequel to my other fic, "The Library Refuge of the Resistance," because apparently I have way too much fun writing one-shots based on silly Star Wars text posts. Also, I love Picotee. (If I end up writing more, I'll collect them into a series.)
> 
> Inspired by this drawing: (http://flurgburgler.tumblr.com/post/163705068028/when-your-sons-a-jedi-padawan-but-he-still)

“Get her out of here!” Ben shouts over his shoulder to Picotee, deflecting blaster fire without looking, his blue blade flashing. 

Picotee is crouching behind a barrel with the objective of their mission—a Pantoran woman named Soffeli with sensitive information about First Order activities—and would love nothing more than to get the near-human out of this firefight. Between the two of them, only Picotee is armed, so their odds aren’t so great right now. And Ben might be a Jedi, but he’s her friend, and she’s not leaving him behind.

Plus, if they destroy all their enemies, it’ll take the First Order longer to figure out the Resistance has an advantage.

She pops up, squeezing off a few shots, and ducks back down. “Not until they’re all gone!” she shouts. “We don’t need witnesses.”

Ben laughs, grim but wild, realizing what her plan is. “Then we better make sure we destroy the holorecordings, too.”

Picotee curses, glancing at the Pantoran. Her gold eyes are wide, but she seems otherwise calm despite the chaos. She might be weaponless, but from experience, Picotee knows that when things are this desperate anything can be a weapon.

“Stay here,” she orders Soffeli, and springs up before she can see if the Pantoran obeys or grabs a pipe, her blaster blazing.

Now that she’s no longer worrying about the blue-skinned woman’s safety, Picotee clears her mind like Ben has been teaching her, and helps him take down the remaining First Order officers. Between his blade and her blaster, they have the chamber cleared in half a minute.

As the last one goes down, she hears a cry from behind her. She whirls, terrified that their informant’s been killed—Kriff, why did she think leaving her to fend for herself was a good idea?—and throws the barrel aside. Thankfully, Soffeli is only clutching her shoulder. Picotee meets Ben’s eyes, feeling guilty but relieved the Pantoran is alive.

“I’ll patch her up, enough to get her back to the base,” Ben says, clipping his lightsaber back to his belt. He crouches to size up the wound, gently peeling away Soffeli’s tunic. “You go erase the holos.”

Picotee nods. She holsters her blaster and starts off to look for them, then hesitates. 

“What are we going to tell the General?” she asks.

Ben doesn’t glance up, intent on applying a bandage to Soffeli’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about the General. I’ll handle it.”

Picotee chokes back a snort. She’s seen Ben “handle” things with his mother before, she thinks as she erases the holorecordings of their presence. It usually involves a lot of verbal sparring.

The promise doesn’t inspire confidence.

 

***

 

A day or so after their mostly-successful mission, Picotee and Ben are summoned to the General’s office and wait for her to arrive for their debriefing. 

The general is one of the few ranking members of the Resistance who has a separate area for work. Usually Leia prefers to do most of her work out in the open to promote an atmosphere of unity and accountability, but meetings like this one require somewhere closed-off. 

Picotee’s relieved that only Ben is going to hear the General reprimand her.

Leia sweeps in, throwing her cloak on a chair. Underneath, she wears a uniform similar to most other officers aside from the Naboo and Alderaanian emblems embroidered on the left of her collar. She sits heavily and rubs her eyes before looking at the two of them.

Quite frankly, Picotee thinks, the General looks like she’s drunk twice the recommended amount of caf—and knowing her, she’ll be drinking more at the next meal, determined to stay on top of things.

“That was a tight spot you managed to get out of this time,” Leia finally says, folding her hands on top of her desk. “We’re relieved you managed to neutralize all the First Order forces in addition to retrieving Soffeli. Her information on their movements and technologies is going to prove invaluable.”

“Thank you, General,” says Picotee. That sounds safe. She’s just waiting for the part where the General demotes her for endangering their informant. The compliment means a lot, but even so, she know she made a grave mistake.

Leia sighs deeply. “However, in the future, please ensure that part of your mission objective is to keep the subject entirely unharmed and untraumatized, if at all possible. We’re fortunate that Soffeli only suffered a minimal wound. She’ll be fully recovered in a day or two.”

Picotee blinks. Is the General… not going to punish her? Her mind is totally blank until Ben nudges her in the ribs, not at all subtly. “I’m—so glad to hear it, General. Next time, we’ll be more careful.”

“Good. Ben?”

“Don’t worry. I won’t fuck it up next time, Mom.”

Shock passes over Leia’s face, then settles into an expression of deep exasperation, like she’s dealt with this before. Technically, she has—Ben can’t have been the easiest teenager to deal with—but probably not when she’s speaking to him as a Resistance subordinate. “Ben, language, please.”

Picotee just sits there, dumbfounded.

Ben—looking uncannily like his father with a smirk that said he was having a little too much fun—crosses one leg over the other and says, “You’re right, sorry. I won’t fuck it up next time, Mother.”

Picotee clamps her mouth shut against the startled laugh that almost slips out. As funny as Ben is when he’s snarky, Leia is his commanding officer right now, not his mother. Laughing is definitely inappropriate.

I’ll handle it. Sure thing, Ben.

The General’s lips twitch. Somehow, Picotee is convinced she expected that response, judging by the eye-roll. “I’d appreciate that, Ben. Now get out of here and get some rest. There won’t be another mission for you two until Soffeli’s ready to talk.”

Dismissed, Picotee and Ben stand and exit the General’s office. Once outside in the hallway, she turns to him. 

“Ben, what the hell? She might be your mom, but you can’t talk to General Organa like that during official business. We’re lucky she didn’t demote you or something. Either of us, to be honest. She should have been harsher.”

Ben gives her a lopsided grin. “Tee. Come on. Who exactly do you think I learned that kind of language from, anyway? Jedi aren’t much for swearing, but there’s nowhere better to learn cursing than a military base.” He punches her on the shoulder and adds, “See, I told you I’d take care of it. C’mon, let’s get some caf. We’ll steal Mom’s good stuff, my treat.”

 

 


End file.
